Her Professor
by Solent
Summary: Delia considers her life after her son left on his Pokémon Adventure; wondering what she's got left at home. What she discovers is more than she'd ever thought possible, but should it ever truly be hers? Eldershipping.
1. Her Professor

**AN:** _If I had three wishes, first I'd wish to own the rights to Pokémon, as then I'd be rolling in money and I wouldn't have to put a disclaimer at the beginning of every story. Unfortunately I'm still bidding for that magic lamp on eBay, and therefore I should mention that I don't own any of the characters or the setting described in this piece, I'm not planning on making any profit from it whatsoever, and no copyright infringement is intended. Please review as I'm new to the scene and eager to improve my writing! There's also another half to this tale, so don't worry, more on the way soon!_

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Spring had finally arrived once more in Pallet Town, and Delia Ketchum had once more decided as she did every year to begin her gardening a little ahead of her neighbours. The sun had kindly decided to shine on the little village, the rain that had drizzled non-stop from the previous week finally abating. This was one of her favourite times of year, trumped only by the few holidays when her son would return from his adventures to see her.

She was knelt, apron on, turning over the soil for the seasonal lettuce she was going to plant so she could make a few salads, perhaps with some tomatoes and fish, she hadn't decided yet. Whatever she chose, she'd have to remember to take some to Professor Oak next door. She often found herself fretting about his eating habits. As a busy scientist he couldn't have much time to feed himself properly.

Just then a tap on her shoulder brought her out of her reverie. It was Mimey, with a glass of lemonade on a tray. She thanked him as she took a sip, making sure to smile broadly once she'd finished, showing him his thoughtfulness was much appreciated. He really was a blessing, especially now she had no human company around the house anymore. She sighed, looking up at the valleys to the west.

"Something the matter?" a kindly voice asked.

"Hm? Oh, no Professor." she said, smiling once again as she stood to greet her visitor. He was sat, arms resting against the handlebars of his bike, a concerned look on his face. _'He must be on his way back from Viridian; he usually makes the trip for supplies early in the week.'_ she thought. Come to think of it she knew a surprising amount about his day-to-day habits. _'Must come from being his neighbour all these years.' _she decided.

"Good to hear. What're you planting today then?" Professor Oak said, nodding his head towards her half-planted seeds.

"Lettuce, I'm planning on making a few salads. I'll bring you one in a few weeks if you'd like?" she replied, her fingers twisting the gardening glove in her hand slightly as she spoke.

"I'll look forward to it. You know I love your food." he agreed, the corners of his eyes turning up as he smiled that lop-sided grin of his. She couldn't help but return a smile of her own. "Anyway, I'd better get going. I left Tracey on his own with a particularly irritable Girafarig, and you know the trouble he can get himself into sometimes," he continued as he sat up and began cycling away, before turning to add: "See you soon!" as he disappeared further up the road.

Delia kept watching for a while after he had fallen from view. She thought about what a nice man he was as she returned to her previous task. Her hands moved almost by themselves as she quickly found her gardening rhythm once more. Her eyes wandered, first glancing over the mountains in the distance, then to the house across the road (their garden was always unkempt, she noted), finally coming to rest on the windmills of the Professor's lab. Her eyes lingered, transfixed by the gently spinning blades, unaware she'd run out of seeds to plant and was now just turning the soil over and over.

Her mind was lost, thinking back over the last year or so. Since Ash had left home, she'd been seeing a lot more of Professor Oak; he'd been kind enough to take her to all the big tournaments her son had gone to. There was the time he'd said she looked like she needed a break, and he'd taken her to the beach in Aopulco. Actually he'd been a really good friend to her; he'd even paid for her hotel room the time she'd left her purse at home.

The sun had gotten high in the sky, and Delia hadn't moved for almost an hour. She just couldn't get the Professor out of her head. She'd been feeling lonely earlier this morning but now she was realising that she hadn't been alone at all. Far from it. Was it really possible she had gone so long without realising what a gentleman the Professor had been to her, how nice he'd been? She knew she returned his favours with her cooking, but she owed him so much more than that. She owed him a proper friendship; she'd been his pupil, his neighbour, his travelling companion. Sure, she knew his routine, but how much did she really know about him? Barely anything beyond the surface. She got up, a determined look in her eye. She was going to go knock on his door and make things right…

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About half an hour later Professor Oak heard a knock at the door. Normally he would have sent Tracey to answer, but he had already sent the boy out back to feed the Pokémon a while ago, and he himself really wasn't all that busy at the moment. He'd just finished his latest paper yesterday and hadn't started the next, so on a whim he took himself to the door instead. He opened it and was surprised to find a rather flustered Mrs. Ketchum stood there.

"Professor… I just wanted to-" she started.

"Please, call me Samuel, we've known each other all these years after all." he smiled.

"Uh, alright, Samuel," she began again (it felt strange calling him by his first name considering he was one of the most respected Pokémon researchers in the world, but at the same time it seemed sort of natural now she said it aloud), "I just wanted to say… to say…" the words caught in her throat; suddenly, being here, looking into the face of her neighbour, which even creased into a confused expression she found oddly comforting, his brown eyes staring intently into hers, she just couldn't find the words. Did she really see him as just a friend? Or was it something else, something stronger?

"Yes?" he questioned, slightly worried that she was going to faint as she appeared to have become suddenly unsure of herself.

"Thank you for being such a good neighbour." she said weakly as she kissed him on the cheek. Quickly she turned on her heel and walked away with her face burning, biting back tears as she knew she just couldn't say it. How, in the space of a couple of hours, she'd gone from being almost oblivious to how she felt to being on the verge of confessing her love to him. It was silly, you couldn't decide you loved someone in one afternoon, and even if she did love him there was no way he would love her back, she was so much younger than him, so plain compared to all the women he must of met on his travels across the globe.

When she got home she locked the door behind her, went into the kitchen and slumped into a chair. She sat like that for a long time, letting the occasional tear fall down her face. Mimey stood at the foot of the stairs uncomfortably, unsure if he should go and comfort her or continue with his cleaning duties. She, meanwhile, was still in shock; having turned her own world upside down so abruptly,it had left her disorientated. It was nearly dark by the time she moved herself to the sofa in order to think. She knew she needed to compose her ideas; she'd made a mistake in going over to the Professor's. _'Samuel's'_ she corrected herself, allowing another tear to grow which Mimey promptly handed her a tissue for. She thanked him, a weak smile on her lips, in stark contrast to the smile she'd given the Pokémon earlier. This was so unlike her. She wasn't the sort of woman who went round her neighbours' houses with the intention of proclaiming her deepest emotions to them.

Maybe that proved he was so special to her, that she would act on impulse like that, or maybe it just showed that she didn't really love him at all, she was just desperate for his company. Perhaps he was _just _a good neighbour: a good man who did a good job and took good care of the woman next door who had no husband or son around the house. He took her with him so he could see his grand-son and so she could see her son, nothing more. She'd been caught in a flight of fancy by thinking his actions were anything other than neighbourly.

Then again, she couldn't entirely suppress the desire she now felt in the pit of her stomach. That he would be _that_ man, the man who was _more_ than just a neighbour. That he would be _her _Professor…


	2. His Neighbour

**AN****:** _Again, I don't own any of the characters or settings described in this piece, they all belong to their original creators and respective companies etc. etc. I'm not going to make any money from this, I'm just a humble FanFic writer. Now that's out of the way, I am proud to introduce the second and final part to my first proper piece of writing. Overall I'm pretty proud of it, but please read on and tell me what you honestly think!_

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His eyes widened as she placed her lips gently against his cheek. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. She was already halfway down the path leading from his door before he could react. He took a step forward as if to call after her, but decided against it. He rested his shoulder against the door frame, watching as she almost ran back to her house. He brought a hand up to his face, barely touching the place where she'd kissed him. He slowly turned around and closed the door.

"Who was that?" Tracey asked inquisitively, obviously a little suspicious that the Professor had chosen to answer the door himself.

"Just a door-to-door salesman. Wanted me to buy some kind of Beedrill repellent. I sent him on his way." Samuel answered, nodding his head as a sign that that was all he that needed to be said on the matter.

The boy looked after the man sceptically, knowing it was best not to press the matter, or try and disturb him for the next few hours, seeing as he'd gone into the study and shut the door. Whoever had been at the door, they certainly hadn't just been peddling bug spray. Tracey shook his head slightly, heading out back to finish the feeding. He allowed himself just one more glance at the study. The door was still firmly closed.

Inside the study Samuel was sat in an armchair facing the window, studying the sun as it traced towards the west, over the hills outside of Pallet, and towards the ocean. A slight breeze was coming in, ruffling the end of his lab coat. Taking a deep breath he reached into a desk draw, pulling out a sketchbook and pencil. In his younger days he'd sketched prolifically, but now he was a researcher it had become more of a hobby.

Carefully he etched an outline of the scene, deftly taking the horizon from the window to the page. The rolling fields were next, and then the houses. He paused when he reached the Ketchums', exhaling and looking up from his work. Finally he let his mind wander; he knew exactly where it would go. Try as he might to distract himself, he soon found his mind's eye focused on Delia. She was a good neighbour; always bringing meals for Tracey and him, and she was a good companion too. He couldn't really think of anyone he'd rather take with him when he went to see Gary and Ash compete. _'A happy coincidence she's Ash's mother.' _he thought wryly.

He'd never really thought much of it before, but then she turned up at his doorstep; visibly confused, just to thank him? It didn't really add up. And then there was that kiss. Were kisses ever just neighbourly? Of course friends kissed; but where was the line between friendly and something else? All these questions without any answers. He rubbed his temples in an attempt to relax his ideas, forcing himself to concentrate on his drawing.

It wasn't long before his mind returned to the previous topic. What could she see in him anyway? He was just the old professor next door: widowed and honestly too eccentric to ever be anything but a friend. The idea of him and Delia had crossed his mind a couple of times, but he had told himself such thoughts were bound to crop up when you knew someone as long as they'd known each other; he'd certainly never even dreamed of acting on them.

He stood once more and sat on the windowsill, the sketch long since forgotten, running a hand through his hair as if that could simply brush off all the emotions he now felt. Suddenly Delia's flustered behaviour made a lot of sense, as well as making absolutely no sense at all. Where had this come from? What was she really trying to say? He could write a several-thousand word dissertation on Pokémon behaviour but one simple human act had him more confused than he could ever remember. He sat and lamented for a while, questions and answers swirling around and around his head until he felt numb.

He'd known Delia for decades, and it was true they'd gotten closer over the last few months, but could it be possible they saw each other in 'that' way? He wasn't sure they could ever 'just be friends' now. Equally he wasn't sure if he was reading into things too much. He didn't like being so uncertain of things, but at the same time his nature as a scientist was soon getting the better of him, a desire to 'experiment' forming in his chest.

The sun was low in the sky by the time he had made his decision. He went back into the corridor, calling out to Tracey that he was going out, and wasn't sure when he was going to be back, and also that it would probably be a good idea to eat without him. He didn't bother waiting for a reply; hurriedly closing the front door and setting off down the path in the direction of the Ketchum residence.

Delia was still sat on the sofa, watching the sun finally set, wiping her eyes occasionally. She'd calmed down some, although she was still unsure if she'd ever be able to face Samuel again after the way she had behaved.

The knock that came at the door was soft, measured. Delia sniffed as she got up and ran her hands down her clothes. She hadn't noticed before but she still had her apron on. Tentatively she opened the door, putting on a façade of a smile so as not to upset her guest. It was Samuel, stood looking rather nervous. She glanced to the floor when she saw who it was.

Samuel stared at Delia, her makeup smudged as if she'd been crying. He'd never been great with words, so he simply put his arms around her, pressing her body tight against his. In that moment, everything seemed so much clearer. She was warm, and he felt her fingers tighten on the edge of his coat as she dug her head deeper into his chest, as if she was afraid he might disappear. He rested his head on top of hers, their combined shadows stretching as the sun eventually disappeared completely, the sky steadily fading from orange to velvet blue.

Delia lifted her head slightly, not entirely sure what she should say or do, but the genuine care in Samuel's special, lop-sided smile that she loved so much made things easier, the words forming in an instant:

"Can we just… take things slow?" she asked; eyes suddenly wide with possibility, she hadn't felt feelings like this for many years.

"Of course," Samuel's smile turned into a full-blown grin, wiping any sadness from Delia's thoughts, "Would you care to join me for dinner sometime?" he said.

She nodded and replied: "When?"

He chuckled, the sound floating throughout the entire house, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, pulling back so he could look at her face.

"When do you think you could bring over a salad?"

**THE END**

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AN:** _As always, my gratitude to my BetaReader knows no bounds, as I would never have had the drive to write this if she hadn't poked me back into the FanFiction ring in the first place. I've got a few more ideas for stories to write in the near future, but right now I think I'm going to take a short break from Eldershipping and write a short piece of something different. Thank you for reading, and please review if you've got the time as it'll help this fledgling writer greatly._

_-Solent_


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